Pride and Joy
by xXxBlackDahliaxXx
Summary: Life is hard. Divorce, parenting, friends, careers. When everything is spiralling out of control, Harry takes some comfort in the fact that he's finally been accepted into the Elites. But, like everything in his life, it comes with a catch. Elites? They have permanent partners. His partner? Draco Malfoy. ((HP/DM slash. Rated M for later chapters))
1. Bye, Baby, Bye

**Title:** Pride and Joy  
 **Disclaimer:** J.K Rowling and associates own these characters and universe. I am writing this for fun and make no profit from it.  
 **Pairing:** Most canon pairings (RW/HG, HP/GW) with future HP/DM.  
 **Rating:** Rated M for swearing, violence, sex.  
 **Content Notes:** Ginny bashing. Violence, Angst, Friendship, Fluff, Parent Harry.  
 **Summary:** Harry thought he knew where he was going after the war. It was like a red carpet; all laid out in front of him. He got the girl, the house, the job, the friends, the family. But somewhere along the line, cracks began to appear, and things weren't as they seemed. Ginny was no longer the doe-eyed girl he knew, the job became routine, the friends were moving on... the only thing that stayed the same were his boys. So during a bitter divorce, Harry takes it upon himself to apply for the Elites. An extended arm of the ministry, the Elites were the best of the best. It would bring some excitement back into his ever spiralling life. It was the only way he could go, the only way he _wanted_ to go - until, of course, he was told that the Elites worked in pairs. Partners. And his partner? Of course it would be Draco fucking Malfoy. **  
****Author's Notes:** I have had this story on my computer for nearly six years now... I wrote it during a bad time, when I moved to uni and away from my family. I have two nieces, and at the time they were the same age as the boys in this story. I took a lot of their character from my girls. It was a huge comfort to me, and every time I read it, it makes me feel better. I haven't wanted to share it online because I was afraid of how people would react to it. It means a lot to me, but getting feedback and sharing my work with others means a lot too. So I've finally posted it. This is a lot of fun to write, so please, I would appreciate R&R on this one. Updates biweekly (every 2 weeks). Please check my profile for updates.

 **Pride and Joy**

Chapter One - Bye, Baby, Bye

"You… are you serious? Are you fucking _kidding_ me?"

The small audience in the room flinched back from his tone. He ground his teeth in a bid to stop himself from flipping the table. He could smell the faint whiff of a Calming Candle and that angered him even more. If they expected him to flip, then why the hell put him in the situation in the first place?

He made sure that the sconces on the wall flickered with his magic as he set his dark eyes on each person.

The first, Eleanor Brickback, Head Auror of Technical and Tactics. She had wispy brown hair sprinkled with grey, pulled back in a strict, unflattering bun. Her eyes were cast downwards as she twiddled her fingers on her lap, but he felt a small lick of satisfaction as she squirmed under his gaze.

The second sat in the middle of the long table facing him, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Minister of Magic. He kept his steady gaze on Harry, but there were small beads of sweat lining his dark lip.

The third, Richard Samms, Auror Chief. A bulky man with oddly big hands. He had a hard, lined face, and he was the only one who didn't seem nervous. Instead, he almost seemed amused. Harry sneered. The bastard had it out for him since he took over Shacklebolt's job. He was probably loving this.

And fourth, Brenda May. She was a pretty one. Soft on the eyes but deadly with a wand. She was Harry's superior, Head Auror of Frontal Assault and Assessment. Her blue eyes flickered back and forth to Harry and the man set to his left.

Harry settled his gaze on the prat next to him. The one who was now, apparently, his partner. Draco Fucking Malfoy.

Of all the people who had been promoted to the Elites, it had to be _Draco Malfoy._

A new wave of anger spiked him and a few of the candles actually went out. The four people sat opposite him all took a collective breath of air. It was true, Harry wanted to blast them to bits, but since they were the biggest bosses in the Ministry of Magic, he guessed that they wouldn't appreciate it.

Finally, Kingsley cleared his throat.

"Auror Potter, you have been given an opportunity that most men and women will never achieve. To be accepted into the Elites is to be the highest, most respected Auror in the business."

He snorted. It wasn't as if he hadn't slaved day and night for this job. He lived and breathed it, having to prove himself ten times more than anyone else, because he was The Saviour and because people like Samms thought he was born with a silver spoon in his gob.

"If you do not wish this promotion, Mr Potter, then we can renounce your application and you can return back to your previous position."

He glared at Brickback and she took a shaky breath.

Samms was openly smirking at him now. Harry sent him his most heated, most venomous glare. He was glad that the man flinched, if only for a second.

Malfoy had remained perfectly still. Harry wondered if he was just as pissed, or if he was glad of the opportunity to sabotage Harry's career. He shot the man a glance, but his silver eyes were sealed by thick platinum lashes. For a moment Harry wondered if he had passed out – then he decided that he really didn't give a rat's arse.

"So, what you're saying, is that either I partner with Malfoy or I don't get into the Elites?"

The room went eerily silent. He wasn't even sure if people were breathing.

Then a slow, predatory smile crept over Samms's face and Harry knew. He barely contained his outburst, but he felt his cheeks flush from the exertion. Samms raised his head and jutted his chin forward, his eyes glinting with the challenge.

Harry channelled all his will and forced a smile. He saw Shacklebolt's eyes widen slightly before he coughed and regained his composure.

"Fine."

Malfoy finally moved.

He saw the bastard jerk and then his blond head snap up, no doubt to glare at Harry. But Harry was done. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and all he wanted to do was go home.

With all the grace he could muster, which wasn't much, he got to his feet and stalked from the room, slamming the door nicely behind him. Just as he got to his office to get his outer robe, a figure loomed in the doorway. Harry raised his head wearily.

"You alright, mate? Look like you've been through hell."

Harry sighed heavily. "You have no fucking idea."

Ron walked into the room easily, closing the door behind him and then perching on the edge of Harry's desk. Harry sat down in his chair and leant back, weaving his fingers together and then covering his eyes as if he could block out the day's events.

"What happened? Didn't you get it?"

Harry laughed humourlessly.

"Oh, I got it. I also got a new partner. Guess who it is?"

At Ron's blank gaze, Harry frowned. So, it wasn't common knowledge, then. Ron was always the first to know if someone was going to turn on Harry. How he knew, Harry never asked, but Ron was an endless source of the Harry Sucks gossip well.

"It's Malfoy."

Ron blanched. Then bright red splodges spread across his cheeks, the way they did when he got really angry. Harry felt his stomach tighten at the familiar sight.

The redhead's sister had inherited that particular Weasley trait, and he had seen quite enough of Ginny's angry face to last a lifetime.

"Mal… _Malfoy?_ As in _Draco_ Malfoy?"

Harry nodded, turning his eyes to the blank ceiling so that he didn't have to focus.

"What… why – they… the bastards!"

Harry just nodded again, recognising the anger in his best friend's tone. He could only imagine what Hermione was going to say. Harry decided to let her husband tell her.

The next few minutes went quickly. Harry nodded and agreed with Ron's outbursts, then his vows of revenge, then his sincere apologies. Finally, he was able to get away. He walked through the Atrium quickly, but the glances his way told him that the news was out. No doubt the morning paper would have the front-page scoop of the situation. He shuddered, glad that tomorrow was his day off.

Maybe he'd go to the Bahamas for the day.

But as if being told he was partner with Draco Malfoy for possibly the remainder of his career wasn't bad enough, then the moment Harry stepped into his apartment he was met with an angry pair of familiar brown eyes was pure hell. He sighed.

"Ginny."

"Harry." Her tone was levelled, but the red splotches dotted her cheeks.

He groaned, wondering what had happened now. The divorce settlement had been negotiated, but Ginny kept finding things of his to take. Wasn't it bad enough she had the house, the summer house, half his bank and even their owl?

"Harry plans have changed. The trip me and mum were going on next month has been cancelled."

Harry couldn't help the wash of regret that coloured his cheeks. He saw Ginny's eyes darken and he knew she'd noticed. He was looking forward to a month without her harassment. Granted, he had the kids for the month and that was a little scary, considering he was on his own, but he'd survive. Hermione rocked bath time.

He opened his mouth to offer his apologies when he caught a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye.

Then that thing bounded into the living room and wrapped itself around his legs.

"Daddy!"

Harry smiled as he reached down and scooped up the bundle that was his firstborn. James wrapped his small arms around Harry's neck and the Auror Elite gave himself a minute to enjoy his son's love. It was short-lived.

"We've had to move the trip to tomorrow."

Harry's face dropped. James nattered in his ears about something, but he couldn't hear him. All he could see was the trunk at Ginny's feet – the trunk he hadn't noticed before. Then he saw the pram by the door and a pair of curious eyes looking up at him from the centre.

"Wh… what the fuck, Gin?"

She frowned. "Don't swear in front of James."

Harry turned on her, ready to show her his whole array of swear words when James started chanting 'fuck' in his ear. He sighed and put the boy down, where he immediately raced across the living room and towards the fireplace. He barely had a moment to grab the boy before he tripped in.

"Harry, you know how much I need to get away. Mum thought it was better just to leave now or else I'll have to deal with all the papers and the interviews. You owe me this much."

Harry saw red. He owed _her_? The woman who had not only broken their vows but also nearly let James get hurt?

"Ginny, you better leave. Now."

Her face paled, but she nodded, swooping down to peck James on the cheek and then walked to the pram where she did the same to Albus. Then she gave Harry a sheepish glance before waving her wand and Apparating.

The room was spinning for a moment. He walked absently to the kitchen with James sat on his hip.

"Daddy, where's mummy gone?"

Harry set his jaw but steadied himself enough to answer.

"On holiday with Nanny."

"Nanny! Nanny's gone on holiday?"

He just nodded, reaching up into his cupboard and fumbling around until he found a bottle. He filled it quickly with some orange juice – the only drink in his kitchen at that moment – before giving it to the boy. Then he heard a small cry and his heart felt like it was going to explode. He sat James on the couch, enchanting the book on his coffee table to dance before hurrying over to Albus.

"Hey, hey, shush shush shush, it's OK, it's fine," he cooed, pulling the stuffy robes off the baby before bouncing him slightly.

He felt a small smile tug at his lips as he studied the babe. Alby had Harry's jet-black hair, and, it's uncanny ability to look constantly messy. It stuck out in all directions and his green eyes looked around the flat blearily.

Harry moved slowly back into the living room, watching as James squealed in delight at the dancing book. Apparently now it could sing, and James sang along. The boy didn't know the words, but he picked up the tune pretty easily. Harry sat on the couch heavily, feeling the warmth of Alby on his chest and then of James as he snuggled into his side.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the brief moment of silence while it lasted. Because, with an adventurous three-year-old and a bad-tempered one-year-old, shit was going to hit the fan.

And sure enough, two seconds later, Alby screamed as James tried to climb onto Harry's chest, but he stopped him before James could hit the baby back. Harry felt the burning of a tension headache just as he pulled James away from another swipe by Albus.

* * *

The cold air hit him in a rush and Draco tugged his robes tighter around himself. The street he stood in was dimly lit and his breath swirled around him like white smoke. He shivered before starting down the street.

He was in a smaller part of Wizarding London, and quite a nice part it seemed. The pavement wasn't cracked, and the hedges neatly trimmed.

The buildings were nice, too. Tall and red-bricked, they loomed over him like graceful amendments to the scrubs that was lower Wizarding London. He half expected Potter's flat to be in a remote, desolate plain with no one in sight for miles. That was what the papers said about him, anyway.

He walked quickly to the tall building. It must have easily been ten stories high. He stopped outside the caller and saw Potter's name scrawled across the third button from the top.

Draco was impressed. Not only was Potter in a nice neighbourhood, but a nice flat too.

One slender finger hovered over the button but stopped short of pressing it. From the Gryffindor's reaction earlier, the chances of him actually letting Draco in were slim. So instead he pressed another one and smiled when a female voice answered.

Using all his manipulation techniques, he managed to convince the woman to buzz him in. He felt the tickle of wards against his skin as he stepped through the threshold, and he felt their power humming in the walls. Well, he supposed if the apartment housed the Saviour of the Wizarding World, there needed to be some damn strong protection.

Draco moved quickly to the lift, a little jump in his step as he went.

True, hearing he was paired with the Golden Prat wasn't the greatest news in his life, although hearing he got into the Elites was. It was more than he had imagined he would ever achieve.

After the war, he had been shunned, forced to Australia with his parents for a year before he finally had enough of tea parties and blistering heat. And those damned spiders. He shuddered.

No, England was and always would be his home. He had found a little place on the outskirts as the Manor had been seized, along with the majority of their accounts. Thankfully his father was paranoid and had set a couple of overseas accounts up in a different name. Draco had been given one and told that 'once it was gone, it's gone'.

He'd not been willingly accepted in London. A lot of them shunned him, which was to be expected, but then it still pissed him off. His name had been cleared in the trials, so technically he should have been allowed to work. No one would take him, not even a lousy chippy.

Draco was about to admit defeat when he received a letter from the Ministry. He'd gone there and met with Eleanor Brickback, Head of Tactics in the Aurors.

She had seen his application to the Aurors, one that he had submitted as a joke, and was interested in recruiting him. He had thought it to be a piss take, obviously, until she explained that an Auror's job was to intercept crime and criminals, and as Draco had seen the face of evil, believed he had some kind of valuable insight. The branch she asked him to join was what he considered the Thinking Force. He'd been trained in subtlety, discretion and diplomacy rather than the brute force of the Meat Crew. No surprise that Potter was in the meat headed department.

Of course, the training was hell. He had learned some valuable hexes while there, though. Especially a Thieving Hex as people liked to steal his clothes while he was in the shower. The hex not only made sure his clothes were unharmed, but they choked the thief when they touched them.

One Auror had learned that the hard way. He hadn't died, but he got some pretty bruises.

Draco smiled at the fond memory. He'd got his comrades' respect eventually, although some very begrudgingly. He had more to prove than the others, but he never failed to do so.

Now he was in the Elites and he had to work with fucking Potter. He groaned as he stepped out of the lift and into a brightly lit hallway. The lights bobbed in the ceiling and got brighter as he walked underneath. Clever little things they were. A Double Lighting spell. They would light the path as people moved under them, but also go dark when a wizard with bad intentions walked through. Then they would shrill in alarm and bind themselves around said, person.

He was more than a little surprised that they let him pass. He didn't have _bad_ intentions, per say, but he did intend to jab at Potter just for the hell of it.

They also had a meeting in the morning with the other Elite recruits which Potter hadn't been informed of due to his brisk departure. He also just wanted to see Potter's face when he realised that Draco knew where he lived.

As he raised his knuckles to the door, he frowned. Why _did_ he know that?

 _Keep your enemies closer._ Yeah, that was it.

His hand was a bit unsteady as it rapped on the polished white wood. He heard some kind of commotion inside before a shrill cry. Draco moved his fingers against his wrist where the tip of his wand sat in the bracer.

Then the door was wrenched open and Draco's jaw hit the floor.

Potter stood before him, completely ruffled. If he didn't have a baby sat on his hip, then Draco would have sworn the Saviour had just been doing something amorous. The sight wasn't a bad one and it sent a little flutter to Draco's stomach.

The black mass of hair was stuck up at the back and dampened at the front. His muggle t-shirt was creased and pulled up around the side, revealing a slice of tanned skin. His dark jeans were wet as well, and Potter's face was a little pale. His lips were red and eyes wide, flashing dark emeralds under long lashes.

The baby blew its lips, drawing Draco's attention. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The baby couldn't be that old, but it was Potter's clone. The same messy black mop, same long eyelashes and bright green eyes.

It was also half dressed.

"Malfoy?"

Draco frowned when he didn't hear the familiar contempt in Potter's tone. Instead, he just sounded… tired?

"Uh…"

Before Draco could think of a word, a flash behind Potter caught his attention and the Saviour turned, reaching forward but missing. Then he was gone, leaving Draco to peer in. He barely heard a quick "James!" before the said child raced past the door. Draco sniggered as he saw the kids bare bum and then Potter was running forward again, trying to catch the little blighter.

Then Potter stopped at the door.

"Hey Malfoy, how are you with kids?"

Draco opened his mouth, to reply or gape he wasn't sure before the Potter clone was thrust into his arms. He barely got a hold before Potter waved him in, slammed the door and ran after the other one.

"Da da da da da!"

He turned to the baby who was chewing its own fingers before adjusting the thing better on his hip.

Looking around the hallway, Draco walked cautiously further into the apartment. There was an archway to his left that led into a fair-sized living room, which would have been nice if there wasn't a multitude of junk strewn over every surface. It was a mixture of baby things and adult clothing, which he assumed was Potter's. There was an open trunk on the living room rug by a beautifully carved white marble fireplace. The colour scheme wasn't hard to look at either, even though it was hidden by the mess.

He walked further down the corridor, seeing another archway to the right the led to washing room.

The hallway then opened into a lovely circular space with a small chandelier. He studied it, impressed before a squeal to the right caught his eye. There was a flash of pale skin before the other child sprinted from an open door.

Not really thinking, Malfoy got to his knees and held out his unoccupied arm in time to catch the fast little thing. He wrapped his arm around it before frowning. The bloody thing was wet. It laughed in his ear and started to retaliate before Potter came marching out.

He threw Malfoy a thankful look and then grabbed the boy.

"Right! I've had enough! Come on, back to the bath!"

The boy screamed and kicked, but Potter managed to get a good hold on him before carrying him back into the bathroom. There was a splash and another squeal, then all went strangely quiet. Hoping that Potter hadn't drowned the brat, Malfoy got steadily to his feet.

The baby had occupied itself with pawing at the clasp that held his robes over his shoulders. Draco tsked before gently removing the fingers. He rethought that option as the baby screeched and then grabbed it again.

He sighed, resigning himself to the pawing, before walking around the flat.

It was nice or would be if it wasn't so messy. A master bedroom that he only glanced at. A kitchen that rivalled the Manor, with a multitude of cupboards and contraptions, and a nice sized breakfast island in the middle.

As he made his way back to the living room, he felt a little shiver go through the baby. It was only then that he remembered the Mini-Potter was half dressed. He was wearing a baby grow but only a pair of pyjama bottoms.

A quick search through the rooms found the matching top, and he grimaced as he saw a golden snitch on the front. The colour was also hauntingly Gryffindor red. He rolled his eyes before sitting heavily on the couch. It was quite comfy, and he would have happily leant back but the baby had other ideas, crawling up and onto his chest.

Draco then began the struggle of getting the little thing into the top. It was harder than he thought it would be, mostly due to his inexperience and the fragile limbs of the baby.

He was actually afraid that he would break something if he moved too quickly.

By the time the little thing was dressed, its cheeks were red, and it cried without abandon. Draco winced as the pitch got louder before he saw a dummy on the coffee table. Praying silently that the dummy was for the baby, he shoved it into the open gob.

And there was silence.

Draco gave a heavy sigh of relief before melting back into the cushions. The baby shuffled itself further onto his chest and then lay his head on Draco's shoulder. It was a strange feeling, and the baby radiated a lot more warmth than he thought it would. He sat perfectly still, hoping the thing wouldn't cry again.

Then, mere minutes later, he felt the baby's breathing calm into a gentle rhythm and he laughed silently when he saw those long lashes were closed.

* * *

"There. All done."

Harry felt his shoulders slump as James sprang up again, charging from the bathroom and no doubt into the living room where-

 _Oh, my God. I've just left my infant son with Draco Malfoy._

Harry scrambled to his feet and charged through the hallway, convinced he was about to find a note telling him that Albus had been kidnapped and demanding a ludicrous amount of money. He was going to kill Malfoy. He would hunt him down and strip his flesh from the bone-

Harry went rigid.

The living room was exactly how he left it, except for the fact that Malfoy was now sitting on one of his sofas, clutching Albus to his chest with his left arm and reaching out to James with his right. James was still naked, and wet, but completely oblivious to those factors. He nattered to Malfoy who just watched him. When he noticed Harry standing dumbly in the archway, one single pale eyebrow swept upwards and a smirk played on his lips.

He didn't expect Malfoy to still be here. He also didn't think that Malfoy would seem almost… natural. Around children. _Harry's_ children.

"…then the bird landed, yeah. It went on road, nearly got hit by the car. It did!"

Malfoy turned back to James and Harry swore he saw his features soften slightly.

"Did it?"

James nodded his head furiously. "It did! Nearly got hit by a car!"

"Well it's good that it didn't then, isn't it?"

James smiled and nodded again, crawling onto the sofa and planting himself next to Malfoy.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly, brushing a pattern on Malfoy's sleeve.

"Draco."

"Raco?"

Harry snickered, drawing both sets of eyes back to him. James smiled and started to chant the name while Malfoy's eyes darkened in their usual manner. He gave Malfoy a sarcastic grin before marching forward. James laughed as he reached down.

"No daddy! Don't wanna go bed!"

"Sorry sweet, but you have to. And I'm sure Draco doesn't want to look at your bare bum all night."

James squealed as Harry picked him up and blew raspberries on his bare stomach. Harry only barely registered the unfamiliar feel of Malfoy's name on his tongue as James's squeals got louder. The sound soon got to Albus, who stirred against Malfoy's chest. Harry sighed and carried James over to the trunk. If he put him down now, then he'd just start running again. Winding him up wouldn't be the smartest thing.

He heard a shushing noise and choked on his own tongue when he looked back to see Malfoy rocking back and forth, running his hand up and down Albus's (dressed?) back. He shook off his confusion in time to grab James before he bolted. He quickly dug through the trunk and found a clean nappy and a set of pyjamas.

Throwing James over his shoulder, he carried him through to the spare room. He sighed as he looked around it. It was only half done. He wanted to have it decorated for the boys when they came to him _next month_. Now things had obviously changed.

Harry swallowed back his anger enough to grab the towel that had been strewn on the floor in the half-finished room. He quickly scrubbed James, making him giggle when he ruffled his hair.

Unlike Albus, James's hair was a dark brown, which sometimes looked red in the light. He had Ginny's warm brown eyes, too. But the hair still stuck out in all directions. He smiled as he sat on the edge of the small bed, laying the boy across his lap and starting on his pyjamas. While he worked quickly, he kept the boy occupied by singing him a nursery rhyme he heard Aunt Petunia sing to Dudley once.

" _Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are…"_

James watched him with wondrous fascination, the way only a child could do, and Harry felt himself smile. Just as he finished pulling up his bottoms, James's eyes started to get heavy. Harry slowly moved him along with his own body until the two of them were lying on the bed. James snuggled as close to Harry as he could get, and within five minutes his breathing had evened out.

Harry smiled, watching that beautiful face sleep. James was a little monster, but he was so wonderful and full of life.

It made Harry so achingly sad to think about what the boys were going through. Yes, they were young, and they didn't understand all the bureaucratic shit that came with a divorce. All they knew was that mummy and daddy lived together, woke up together, played with them in the day, sang songs. Now mummy wasn't with daddy in the morning, and the house was different. He dreaded the day James would turn around and say, "why don't you live with Mummy anymore?"

Harry wasn't sure what had happened. One minute they were fine, the next minute he found Ginny locked in the bathroom with James in the cupboard about to drink bleach.

Now he didn't know what the hell was going on. Someone had possessed the woman he loved and adored and turned her into the ultimate money-digging-

He cut the thought off quickly. _My wife is not a bitch, my wife is not a bitch._

Harry stifled a sigh.

The hardest thing to believe was that Ginny really _was_ a bitch.

* * *

Draco tried not to fidget impatiently.

Was Potter every going to come back and reclaim the brat that was now drooling on his hundred galleon robes?

His whole plan of viciously teasing the Saviour for his own satisfaction was quickly dissolving unless he could get a jab in before dark.

Another five minutes later and he was done. Getting to his feet with all the grace he could muster, which wasn't much considering he was juggling an infant, Draco marched swiftly towards the first room he could see. It was the master room, and devoid of any kind of Potter. He ground his teeth and checked the next but was caught completely off-guard with what he saw.

The room was darkening as no candles had been lit.

A bed was shadowed in the corner, along with boxes of unidentifiable junk. There was also a crib, that looked ancient, in the other corner.

Draco stepped inside, noticing the silhouette on the bed, and a wave of his hand had a tiny ball of light cruising towards the ceiling. He cocked his head like some kind of curious puppy at what he saw. Two Potters, sound asleep.

The boy – James – he was on his back, sprawled out but lying as close to his father as he could get. Potter was also sleeping soundly, but he was on his side and his body was curled around the boy. It was so protective and positively domestic that Draco felt his stomach do an odd kind of roll. Even in sleep, Potter was protecting his loved ones. For some reason, Draco felt his heart speeding, and he had an undeniable urge to run.

Draco walked to the crib, gently laying the baby on the soft mattress and transfiguring a discarded towel into a fluffy blanket. He covered the tiny little thing and tried to Disapparate, but the wards closed in on him like sticky tar.

He wasn't sure if it was the shift in magic around them that stirred Potter, or the fact that Draco was muttering curses under his breath, but the man on the bed sucked in a quick breath and turned to look up. Draco froze, because what else could he do? He managed to rein himself in with practised ease and let the indifferent mask he lived in settle over his features.

"Domestic troubles, Potter?"

* * *

Harry had completely forgotten that Malfoy was there. That he'd been holding Albus. When all that came crashing back down, he got swiftly to his feet, _accioed_ his wand for comfort, before gesturing that they both leave the room.

Before he shut the door behind him, Harry sent a tiny little ball of light to the ceiling where it glowed warmly like a star, because he knew James liked some light in the room when he slept.

Harry turned his back to the door before noticing Malfoy once again and sighing. How did he keep forgetting this man was here?

Malfoy's face took a haughty expression, obviously insulted by Harry's lack of interest in him. Harry cut in before the man could speak, moving towards the kitchen.

"Tea?" he asked wearily, reaching up to a cupboard and already pulling Malfoy out a cup. He didn't know what the man drank, he didn't particularly care either. He flicked on the kettle as he chucked two tea bags into the mugs, hearing the rustling of Malfoy's robes as the man either moved into the room or just made some impatient gesture. He hadn't said anything yet, so Harry was taking that as a good sign.

As the kettle boiled, Harry finally turned around and leaned against the counter casually. He was exhausted, wanted to rub his face and curl into his bed because undoubtedly there would be an early awakening.

He sat back against the counter and casually studied Malfoy. He'd known that the blond prat had enlisted in the Aurors a couple of years ago, and he always kept one eye on him. It seemed his intentions were noble - or as noble as they could be - unless he was taking his sweet time with some dastardly plot. It seemed unlikely though, especially as he had now gone up the ranks and was apparently Harry's new partner.

Malfoy actually seemed a bit uncomfortable, though. Harry had no doubt he'd come to stir the pot, but now he seemed like he was looking for the nearest window to jump through.

Harry thought he might as well play on that. Hey, who knew? It could brighten up his day.

"What brings you to my house, Malfoy?"

The man twitched in a way that could have made him look startled, but of course, Malfoy was far too dignified for that.

"I came... to discuss what happened earlier."

"And what happened earlier?"

"Oh, you mean where you stormed out of the meeting like a royal Golden Boy?"

Harry felt his jaw stiffen. There it was. Good old Malfoy.

"Well what do you expect?" said Harry with a tired grimace. "I've got to spend probably the rest of my career watching my back."

Malfoy scoffed and waved his arm like he was waving away an annoying child.

"You're an Auror, Potter. I'd have thought you'd be used to it by now."

Harry made a half sneer, watching the light above their heads tremble. The last thing he needed was an argument ending in hexes. Especially while his boys were here.

"A bit different when there's a Death Eater involved."

Harry regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth. That wasn't like him. He wasn't cruel. And he only felt worse when he saw Malfoy stiffen, his eyes flashing like liquid silver. He saw the firm set of Malfoy's sleek jaw, and he knew he'd hit a nerve. A painful nerve.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his face like he'd been wanting to do since Ginny had left.

"Malfoy-"

Harry's words were cut off as a pale, slender hand was raised. The gesture was so incredibly superior that he felt a spike in his irritation, but Harry swallowed it down. He couldn't argue anymore today, not with anyone.

"You've made your point. I see this was a futile effort at placating you, considering you're so bent on childish insults. Good evening, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy had already spun on his heel with a grace born from a lifetime of aristocracy. Even as the man marched from the kitchen, the lights hovering against the ceiling flickered dangerously. Harry let his magic slowly reach out, soothing the wards like he would a skittish pet. They shivered from the contact but subsided. He couldn't see Malfoy from his position in the kitchen, but he did hear a slight _whoosh_ of a door being wrenched open. Harry's heart jumped to his throat as he waited for the dramatic slamming of said door - but it never came. There was a faint click, and all was silent.

Harry could feel the movement of Malfoy through the wards as he moved down the corridor and into the lift. The wards had taken a long time to set up, and an incredible amount of magic. Harry had always planned on having his boys here, and he wouldn't have bought the flat if he wasn't allowed to protect it in any way he saw fit. Considering it was one of the most expensive parts of Wizarding London - not to mention the hefty price tag - it was funny how quickly they agreed to his warding proposal. Harry made them agree before he even told him which wards he wanted, and then when they found out, they were shocked, to say the least.

An array of warning wards, counter-attack wards, magical, spiritual and potion detecting spells - glamours and charms and everything Harry could think of. There was even one that would detect someone afflicted with polyjuice potion.

The one that took the most effort though, was the Ancient Blood Ward. That was the one which controlled the lights, which thrummed in Harry's veins. He was linked to the ward as much as he would be a person. It was the most difficult one, and the one with the biggest price. Any foul intentions towards Harry and his kin would be detected, secured, and even killed if the threat were big enough. The ward was commonly used in ancient manors, holding ancient families and trinkets, so the retailers were surprised when he wanted to cast it on his flat.

Harry had thought he knew what the ward would mean, but he was only just starting to get a feel for it. Because it had been created with his blood, only his blood could disarm it. Of course, to let other people into the ward they too had to surrender a droplet, which Harry had added. It wasn't nice when he had had to prick little Alby's heel, but he was sure the boy was over it now.

He knew as a soon as Malfoy crossed the threshold and left the building because the wards almost hummed. It was like a mental marauder's map in his head all the time - but instead of seeing it, he just felt it.

Harry let out a small sigh and turned again, discarding the mug he'd gotten down for Malfoy and instead making himself a cup of tea. He had the briefest urge to add a dash of whiskey, but he squashed that down. Instead, he took the tea and wondered over to the fireplace, pulling up a chair and reaching into the lovely carved box sitting on the mantle. With his mug in one hand, he chucked the powder inside.

"Hermione Granger-Weasley."

The bizarre green smoke rushed into life at his words, crackling silently. Harry pulled the chair close to the fire and pushed his head inside. He couldn't see anything but the licking of the harmless green fire, not until a face came into view. Hermione was moving towards the flame, kneeling with a piece of bread in her hand.

"Hello Harry, are you okay?"

Harry let out a sigh, taking in what he could see of the house that had become like a second home to him through the years. There was a plush sofa behind her, with bookcases against the walls along with muggle and magic trinkets alike adorned tastefully around the room. At the far back by the big windows was the long dining table, and Harry could see the remnants of a meal sitting atop it.

"Sorry Hermione were you eating?"

She waved him away, biting down on the bread again as she settled herself more comfortably in front of the hearth.

"Ron told me what happened today at the Ministry," she said, her voice dipped low in sympathy. Harry grimaced and nodded, taking a sip of the cooling tea in his hands.

"Yeah, did he tell you about Ginny?"

Hermione looked up from her bread, finishing off the last bit and frowning as she chewed, brushing her hands together.

"What happened?"

"Is that Harry?" called a familiar voice from somewhere in the room. Harry looked up as Ron walked from the kitchen into the dining room, drying his hands with a dishcloth as he came closer.

"Hi, Ron."

"You okay mate? You look like shit."

Hermione slapped Ron's arm and he gave her an apologetic look as he moved to kneel in front of the fire.

"I'm shattered," he confided, sighing again.

"What happened with Ginny?" prodded Hermione, spiking Ron's interest. He gave Harry an expecting look and the Auror tried not to fidget. Ginny was always a volatile topic with Ron, and he tried not to talk about her to him because he could understand how torn it made his best friend.

"She's just dropped off the boys."

"The boys? Thought you weren't having them until next weekend?" asked Hermione, her soft eyes watching him steadily. Harry gave a humourless laugh.

"Yeah so did I, but apparently her holiday has to be moved to about an hour ago."

Hermione's eyes went wide, and Ron's face went rigid.

"Oh," was all his friend could muster.

"Yeah. So, I can't come to the match tomorrow, Ron, sorry."

Ron seemed to ground his teeth for a moment but nodded, straightening out his face before he gave his friend a wry smile.

"That's alright, Harry. Seamus has been hounding me for a ticket anyway."

Harry gave Ron a small smile, but Hermione was quick to pick up on his distracted behaviour.

"You alright though, Harry? Do you need anything?"

Harry knew she was asking if he needed help with the boys, and that reminded him of his stormy visitor.

"Nah, they're asleep, thanks, Hermione. Guess who paid me a visit, though?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow and Ron look dumbfounded until a small smile crossed Harry's features. It only took a moment for his friend to catch on, and Ron gasped before breaking out into incredulous laughter.

"No way, he didn't!"

"What? Who?" asked Hermione, looking between her husband and her friend.

Harry chuckled. "Draco bloody Malfoy."


	2. Decisions, Decisions

Chapter Two - Decisions, Decisions

He could feel himself rousing ever so slowly out of the depths of sleep, unsure if it was because of the peculiar dream lingering in the wake of rousing. His conscious fought to grab onto the tendrils of images slipping away.

It was either that or the pressure jumping up and down on his bed.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath just as a weight collided with his chest, knocking all the air from his lungs. He reached up and grabbed the bundle as it rolled off his chest. He caught James just before the bloody boy tumbled from the edge of the bed. James, oblivious to this only giggled and squealed, even as Harry pulled him back onto the bed. His eyes were still groggy with sleep, but he managed to pin the boy down, leaning over and blowing raspberries on his stomach. James squealed and fought against it, catching Harry in the chin with a stray foot.

"No daddy, no, no!"

Harry chuckled as James squirmed from his grasp and moved off the bed, slipping onto the floor with practised ease. Only then did Harry hear the faint cries from the other room.

Cursing himself slightly, he climbed out of the bed, watching as James raced ahead and into their room. Harry marvelled at how quickly the boy seemed to strip himself of any and all clothing. He was making a habit of it, and Harry didn't mind so much - it was just when he would slip of a discarded piece of clothing that he got annoyed.

"Hey, hey, hey," soothed Harry as he moved towards the cot. Albus was clutching the bars of the crib, his face twisted unhappily as he wailed with flushed cheeks. Harry felt a stab of guilt as he picked up the boy, knowing he'd slept through the baby's cries. He would have to cast a sound enhancing charm linking the rooms together, so he'd hear them.

Albus was not happy with him, screeching in his ear and slapping at his cheek. James reached up and pulled on Albus's foot, stretching the bottoms and making Albus wail even louder in his ear.

"That's enough, James," chided Harry half-heartedly, shifting the baby on his hip as the three of them wandered down and towards the living room.

Alby had calmed himself down a little as Harry sat down on the sofa, James telling his little brother about a squirrel he'd seen the other morning. Harry sat Albus on the sofa as he reached forward, digging through the trunk to find nappies and wipes.

James started to sing a song, adding his own dance moves as Harry went through the mechanical movements of changing Albus, and he couldn't help but chuckle when James turned and wiggled his bum.

Albus laughed loudly, squirming out of Harry grasp just as the Auror finished. He put the baby in a sitting position on the floor, where James continued to dance and watched, clearly amused.

Harry rubbed his eyes as he stood again, stretching and scratching his stomach. He padded through into the kitchen, glancing at the boys who seemed far too awake at this time in the morning.

He reached out and wordlessly _accioed_ his wand into his hand, knowing that he would need his magic to conjure some food as he hadn't had a chance to actually buy anything. The smooth familiar wood was called into his waiting palm, and he cast a wordless _Tempus_ charm, letting out a groan as the time flashed in front of his eyes. _06:12._

Harry yawned loudly as he stepped into the kitchen, waving his wand in a manner too lazy for menial tasks. Magic danced around the kitchen, clearing away plates, setting the kettle on the stove, bringing a mug, a bottle and a beaker out of his cupboard and placing them on the side. Harry moved to lean against the counter, crossing his arms and flicking his wrist every now and then.

"James, what do you want for breakfast?" he called, turning his body slightly to see the boys were now sitting on the floor and playing with something.

"James?"

"What?" called the little voice he knew and loved, rather petulantly. Harry sighed.

"Breakfast?"

"Ba ba ba ba ba!" mimicked Albus, giggling and looking at his brother's face. Harry had a sneaking suspicion James was pulling faces, but it was still far too early to try and teach the boy some manners. Instead, he spans his wrist and pulled out two bowls, setting them down and muttering the incantations under his breath. By the time he walked back into the living room, he was holding two lukewarm bowls of porridge with honey, the teat of the bottle filled with warmed milk between his teeth and the beaker of orange squash hooked precariously around a finger. The boys were now starting to argue, James's voice rising as he tried to teach Albus the rules of a game he'd just invented. Albus obviously didn't understand, and as Harry set the bowls down, the baby had reached forward and grabbed a handful of James's hair. The toddler yelped, and Harry managed to grab him before his swing of hand collided with the fragile baby.

"Right, that's enough!" snapped Harry, setting James aside and picking up the baby.

"He pulled my hair! Daddy Albus pulled my hair!"

"I know he did, James, he's just a baby."

"It hurt!"

"I know, I know. Come on, I've made you some breakfast."

Harry opened his palm again and called his wand, shifting the baby to his hip. He quickly transfigured an armchair into a colourful highchair and plunked his son into it. Harry then shrank his coffee table into a smaller one with a bench-like seat attached to it. He separated the breakfast bowls, putting one in front of each child along with their drink.

As they dug into their porridge, Albus using his hands, Harry sank back onto the sofa with a sigh, enjoying the moment of quiet while it lasted.

* * *

"Bird, daddy! The bird! The bird!"

Harry spun on his heel, his toast hanging from his mouth as he looked at what James was pointing avidly at.

A small brown owl pecked at the far window again, looking more impatient than he thought a bird could. James was tugging at his t-shirt again and Harry nodded, moving towards the window. Because of the wards, owls could only get to the perch by the window and because of a tricky little charm he'd set that scanned mail as it passed - no media would get within three metres of the building. This must have been a letter because Harry didn't recognise the owl still scowling at him. He frowned as he opened the window and took the letter from the beak, only letting out a small yelp as the blasted bird went to nip his finger.

"No treats for you!" snapped the Saviour moodily, but clearly James hadn't heard him. The boy had got the jar of owl treats that he kept by the window and was unceremoniously chucking them at the bird.

"James," sighed Harry, watching as the bird flapped its wings in irritation, letting out a squawk and taking flight.

"Oh, no bird! Come back!" cried James, completely put out that he hadn't got to pet it.

"Sweetheart," said Harry softly, leaning down to console his son, just as he heard another rush of air. They both turned, and Harry let out a smile.

"Bunny!"

The graceful white and grey spotted owl swooped through the open window, landing right on Harry's shoulder.

"Bunny Bunny Bunny," chanted James, rushing forward and reaching out. His little fingers seeped into the soft feathers, and Bunny let out a small hoot of affection. She leaned into James's touch, much to the boy's delight. Harry smiled and reached up, brushing his index finger over her feathers.

"Hey girl," he cooed, watching James to make sure the boy didn't pull too hard. He seemed happy enough just petting her, and Harry felt that stab of guilt again.

Bunny was the owl given to them by Molly and Arthur on Harry and Ginny's wedding day, a symbol of unity. It had hurt a little, seeing the gorgeous white and grey owl, mostly because she looked so much like Hedwig, but she'd become part of their family soon enough. The name they had actually given her was Boudicca, one that Ginny picked, but once James had been born the boy had loved the owl and could never say her name as he grew. Therefore, he shortened it to Bunny, and that's what she'd been called ever since.

Harry shifted the weight of the owl on his shoulder, before Bunny gracefully flapped her wings and landed on the floor, much to James's delight. Harry took the note attached to her foot before there was a happy cry from across the room. He glanced up to see Albus walking towards them, his gait less than steady. Bunny moved to meet the baby and gave out a small yip of surprise as the boy nearly fell on her. Harry chuckled under his breath and manoeuvred Albus until he was sitting next to James with Bunny between them, letting them prod and praise her.

He picked up the piece of toast he'd discarded on the windowsill, munching thoughtfully as he opened the rolled-up parchment from Bunny. As soon as he saw the slightly awkward handwriting, Harry felt a grimace spread across his face.

 _Harry,_

 _Since you were in no mood to talk to me civilly yesterday, I thought sending a letter would be the best way to get through to you. I'm sorry I sprang the news on you so suddenly, but you know how much I needed this holiday._

 _Mum and I will be gone for two weeks instead of the four weeks, we had to change the dates to keep the hotel we booked. There's another trunk of the boys' clothes and toys by the fire in my house since I know you've only just moved into your flat._

 _Bunny is staying as well, the owlery didn't have the space for her with the date changes. There's a few things you need to know about the boys;_

 _James has an appointment on Monday at 9.15am at St Mungo's for his vaccinations, and Albus has a playdate with his little friend Marie on Tuesday at 3 pm. I've spoken with Marie's mum and she knows you'll be bringing him._

 _I've changed their days at nursery – they go from 12 – 3 on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. I'm sure you at least remember what nursery they still go to. Dad's asked if you'll take them over this Sunday for a roast, as Bill and Fleur will be there with Victoire and he wants a family get-together. I don't know if Ron and Hermione are going, but I suppose you'll find out from them._

 _I'll be back on the 18th so try not to get the boys out of their routine while I'm gone. They have dinner at 5, bath at 6, and bed at 7. Don't put James to bed later than 7 Harry, he gets out of the routine so easily and it'll be a nightmare to get him back into it._

 _See you in two weeks._

 _Ginny._

Harry felt the parchment crumple in his palm and he had to take a moment, closing his eyes and praying to whatever deity for strength. He let out his annoyance in a breath and set the letter aside, knowing he'd have to keep it to remind him of the appointments for the boys.

It wasn't even that she'd just taken off, no, he could handle that. The worst was that she spoke to him like he was a moron and didn't even know his own children.

"Daddy can Bunny stay with us?" asked James as he passed over yet another treat for the owl. He found James's innocent voice calming and gave the boy a smile.

"Yeah, she's staying with us while mummy is on holiday."

"Yay! Alby! Bunny's staying!"

Albus tried to mimic his brother's cries of joy, clapping his hands happily even though he probably didn't have the faintest idea what James was talking about. Bunny fluttered her wings in all the excitement, nudging his eldest for another treat to celebrate. Harry chuckled, remembering the other letter.

He grabbed at it, turning it around in his hand, but there was no return address. It clearly wasn't needing a reply considering the little owl hadn't stuck around long enough for one. He sighed and leaned against the window, tugging open the blank seal and unfolding the letter. Harry didn't recognise the incredibly beautiful, flowing script, but he could certainly recognise the sneer in every word.

 _Potter._

 _Since your childish response to my presence yesterday gave me no chance to explain the reason of my visit, I felt it necessary to convey my intention through this letter._

 _There is a meeting with the Elite Recruits this morning at nine am sharp. You are required to attend, unless, of course, you wish to reconsider your promotion._

 _Malfoy._

Harry frowned, cocking his head before it dawned on him, very slowly, like ice spreading up his neck.

"Shit!"

Harry leapt forward for his wand, just as James gasped.

"Bad word, Daddy! Bad word!"

The Auror didn't have a chance to reply, casting a _Tempus_ charm and inwardly groaning.

 _8:44._

"That absolute f-"

Harry caught himself just in time as James spun around to look at him, biting back his words and rushing to the fireplace.

"Hermione Granger-Weasley," he all but yelled, nearly tipping the whole box of floo powder into the fire.

The flame bit up hurriedly and he nearly shoved his whole body inside.

Hermione let out a yelp as her house came into view, the shock at his sudden appearance nearly causing her to spill the tea she was holding.

"Harry?" she gasped, steadying herself. Harry could see she was wrapped in a robe and the discarded book on the floor must have been what was occupying her. Trust Hermione to read first thing in the morning.

"Hermione!" he rushed, launching into a brief explanation, and she scoffed.

"He only just sent you the letter?" she grumbled, glancing around her house, no doubt for her husband.

"Yeah, he did, the prick. He knows I get the weekend off and knows I have the boys. I'll rip him a new arse-"

"Harry," she snapped, and Harry let his jaw shut, still glaring at the image of Malfoy in his head.

"Do you want to bring the boys through?"

Harry felt relief sweep through him and he smiled brightly. If he wasn't just an image in a fire's reflection, he would have kissed her.

"Hermione, you're amazing and I love you. Just let me chuck some clothes on them."

The woman waved her hand, getting to her feet.

"I'll sort them out, just bring them through. You've only got..." She glanced at the far wall. "Seven minutes to get there."

"Shit. OK, I'm coming through."

Harry pulled his head out of the fire, moving round to the boys who was still fawning over Bunny. He picked Albus up and reached out for James's hand.

"Where we going, Daddy?"

"You're going to stay with Auntie Hermione for a little while."

"Auntie 'Mione!"

James leapt to his feet and took Harry's hand, the Auror ushering the boys quickly to the fireplace. James stepped onto the grate without even a blink and Harry smiled, loving how easily his boys had accepted the magical world. He supposed that they'd been born into it and travelling through fire wouldn't be anything but normal in their mind. Harry reached for the floo powder, still open on the table.

James grabbed his t-shirt as Harry adjusted the baby on his hip.

"Twenty-One Roland Drive, Wizarding Kent!"

He threw the powder at his feet and grabbed James's hand just as the rushing sensation of transportation wracked his body. His stomach knotted and twisted at the severe change in space opened and shifted. It stopped as soon as it started, and the fire died down instantly, revealing Hermione's familiar living room. Harry stepped forward to steady himself, but James was already throwing himself into Hermione's waiting arms. Albus let out a small wail, not used to floo travel and obviously feeling it's effects.

"Auntie 'Mione, Bunny's come to stay with us!"

Hermione smiled and nodded, reaching out to take the squirming baby from his arms.

"I'll be back-"

"It's fine, Harry, don't worry. Just go, you'll be late! Don't let that smug prat make a fool of you."

Harry chuckled and reached forward, pulling her close by the neck and planting a quick kiss on her forehead.

"You're the best, Hermione."

The witch just waved at him, turning to the talking toddler by her feet. Harry reached up to the waiting pot on her mantle and grabbed another handful of powder. He caught a glimpse of a dishevelled Ron stepping out of the bedroom as he chucked the powder to his feet. He managed a small wave before he was engulfed in flames. If Ron thought anything strange about seeing his best friend flooing from his house in his boxers, the redhead didn't say a word about it.

"Uncle Ron!"

* * *

Harry felt the godawful tugging at his stomach as he stepped out of the fire and into the glossy black entrance hall, still tugging on his clasp. He was moving even as he pulled at his deep red Auror robes, making his way to the lift and managing to jump into the tiny space left unoccupied by the crushing amount of people.

He slammed the button, much to a stout man's annoyance, brushing a hand roughly through his hair.

Harry's skin was still stinging from the quick _Purgato_ spell he'd cast on himself. He hated the cleaning spell, but without time for a shower, he'd had no choice. He could still taste the overpowering mint from the quick brush on his tongue, and as the lift stopped he all but ran down the Auror Department, gaining a few interested glances.

Harry burst through the end door, hoping he'd come to the right place, only to have Kingsley Shacklebolt looking up at him from the head of the room.

The man didn't look in the slightest bit surprised to see Harry running late, flustered and panting.

Harry opened his mouth to apologise, but Shacklebolt just gestured to a waiting chair while a rather terrifying looking woman to the dark man's side sent him a glare. Harry ducked his head and moved to his chair quickly, only noticing the man occupying the seat to his left.

"Cutting it a little fine, Potter," muttered Malfoy under his breath, followed by a small smirk as Harry set him with a seething look.

"As I was saying," interrupted the woman curtly, setting her shockingly bright violet eyes on Harry for a brief moment. "You are all here because you have proven yourself worthy to join the ranks of the Elite. For those who deem themselves above punctuality, my name is Agatha McCready and I am head of the Elites along with my partner Julia Mason, who unfortunately could not be here today. If anyone still has the archaic prejudice against female leaders, then please vacate the room immediately."

Harry took the moment of pause to glance around the room. Harry and Malfoy sat to the left of the room, while two other couples sat side by side in a row. The Saviour recognised some of the faces but didn't have a chance to let the memories set.

"Now, as you know, the Elites are the backbone of the Ministry. We are a highly specialised unit that focus on the most delicate and dangerous of situations, and our job comes with a great risk. If you believe that this role will be used to better your career or your finances, then you are highly mistaken. An Elite is not just another arm of the Aurors – we are a force of nature, and not to be reckoned with."

Harry studied the woman as she spoke. She was lithe and short, with dark blonde hair tied back in a uniformed bun. The robes she wore were all black, setting him on edge slightly. It only added to her hostile demeanour, and Harry didn't doubt when she said that she was a force of nature.

"You have all been chosen because you show the potential to benefit our ranks, but I will say this; not all of you will make it."

There was a moment as the occupants of the room took a collective breath, and Harry felt his nerves suddenly flash into life.

"Death is only one outcome of our training, although it is the rarest. To become an Elite, one must face every fear, every nightmare, find a strength they thought they did not possess and harness magic many could only dream of. You will require strength, will and cunning along with a multitude of other skills. This is not a game where trophies shall be won, this is a lifestyle, this is a purpose. You will stand above your peers and you will be the force that protects the wizarding world from every kind of evil. To accept the life of an Elite, you must accept your title into your soul and be willing to give your life for your partners and for what we stand for."

Her words swam and filled the empty space, sinking into his skin with startling clarity. Harry knew being an Elite was tough, he knew that they were a specialised branch of the Aurors, but he had no idea they were so intense. It seemed like Agatha McCready had just put the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he would be forced to carry it. He wasn't surprised when his heart started to bounce around loudly in his chest.

"I can see from your eyes that this isn't what you were expecting, that you had no idea of the astounding responsibility that you will bear. Becoming an Elite will be the hardest decision you ever make, and it is my job to ensure you make the right one. The partner you have all been given has not been done so lightly, nor will it change. The Elites operate in couples, and should you decide to accept the role, the partner you have been given will stay at your side for the rest of your lives. We have coupled you based on magical ability, intellectual capacity, and emotional connection."

Harry heard Malfoy snort under his breath, drawing those painfully bright eyes down on himself. He would have laughed at Malfoy's sudden tensing, but he wouldn't dare draw those eyes upon himself.

"Animosity, Auror Malfoy, is as strong a connection as any other. You will accept our choice of a partner just as you will accept any and every word we say. That is what it means to be a recruit to the Elites – complete obedience. The training you will go through will determine whether you are worthy to join our ranks, and no feat can be accomplished without your partners. You will work together, train together, study together. You will be forced to learn things about another human being that one should never know, and you will accept them. This is what it means to be an Elite."

Harry swallowed thickly, casting Malfoy a small glance but unable to penetrate the stony expression on the blond's face.

"I do not expect an answer from anyone right away, just as I do not expect you all to make this decision lightly. You will consider what I have said and the gravity of what it means to become one of us. You will be given a week within which to submit your applications, and should you decide not to follow this path then you will return to your normal lives. Let it be known, however, that if you chose not to become an Elite Recruit, this opportunity will not arise again. Forfeiting this chance will forfeit you from ever being recruited within our ranks. Take your time, decide what role you wish to play in the world, and leave your application with Minister Shacklebolt should you wish to join us. Thank you, you are all dismissed."

Harry sat there, dumbfounded like the rest of them before McCready turned her back to them. He felt the haze of her speech descend over them all as they got to their feet. He shuffled out with the rest of them, only vaguely noticing Malfoy walking out behind him. As they left the office, the door was slammed curtly behind them, making him jump. He glanced back to see a set of stormy grey eyes watching him steadily. Harry frowned, trying to shake off the intensity of McCready.

Malfoy didn't speak – he looked just as troubled as Harry felt, if only for a moment. The mask suddenly snapped back into place and the blond held himself with all the grace and superiority he had come to expect.

With a small narrowing of eyes, Malfoy turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Harry to stare at the empty space the man had just occupied. With a heavy sigh, Harry turned and made his way down the familiar offices, around and into his own, shutting the door with a click. He just… needed a moment.

* * *

Draco could feel himself fuming. He still wasn't sure what had irked him more - the outstanding superiority of that women, the fear she had wedged into his stomach, or the fact that he would have to apparently spend not only the rest of his career but the rest of his _life_ with Harry fucking Potter.

How does that even happen? How does Fate twist and manipulate so easily, that no matter where he went or what he did, his life was always entangled by the Saviour prick?

Draco sighed heavily, turning into his office and sealing the door with a flick of his wrist. Shutting himself away had become so much of a habit now that he didn't even need his wand. The blond sat down heavily in his chair, barely glancing over the discarded paperwork of his last case. It had been a boring case, some embezzlement claim that proved to be false and ended up with the accuser in Azkaban for perverting the course of justice and quite frankly - wasting Draco's time. He sighed again, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands.

The Elites had never been something to aim for because Draco know that it would be nothing but wishful thinking. He was nothing if not realistic and getting into the Aurors alone had been something that shook his world from the inside out. Fighting through harassment, suspicion, loathing… it had almost beaten him. Draco had more than earned his way into the ranks, damn it, and he would not be beaten.

McCready's words floated behind his eyes and he leaned back, closing his lids and simply focusing. He didn't doubt the severity of her words, nor was he naive enough to believe she was using scare tactics. If the magic the woman had been oozing was anything to go by, an Elite was indeed more powerful than anyone could anticipate. Her words were laced with power, and however unintentional that was, it still gave them more gravity than they would have had on their own.

Maybe that was why he felt heavy like his limbs had suddenly been laden down with lead. Or perhaps the kind of grogginess sitting heavily in his brain. It certainly made him rethink the opportunity he'd been given, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that was the point. McCready _wanted_ them to consider the proposal seriously, to understand what the change would mean. It made Draco wonder whether she'd added the magic to her voice purposely. It didn't matter either way, because now he was debating the pros and cons of applying.

He would learn more magic, of that he didn't doubt.

He would develop skills, prove his worth. There would be a certain amount of respect given to him by name alone. He may be able to salvage the Malfoy legacy, as tarnished as it now was.

But it wasn't just his name or his legacy he wanted to do this for - it was for himself. Part of him would always carry the guilt and the anguish over who he became - over who he _almost_ was. No amount of glamours could conceal the mark branded on his skin.

To know that he could benefit the world, that he could truly do this for himself… it was what he wanted. Needed. He needed to prove to himself that he was better than what Voldemort said he could be, that belonged to the Light.

Malfoy leaned forwards and put his forehead against the smooth wood of his desk. He let the pressure against his skin bring his thoughts to focus. The cons, of course, was mainly Potter. McCready had said that they should be prepared to know another human being like no one should ever know. What did that even mean?

Potter would become a factor in his everyday life. A partner and that could have multiple definitions. Aside from that, there was the obvious danger. The expectancy to give one's life for whatever they fought for. Complete obedience. Draco had always had a problem with obedience.

But say that he accepted Potter as his partner, that he could live with the danger and was prepared to face whatever challenges McCready threw at him - that didn't mean that Potter would agree. There had been six potential recruits in that room, three couples, three partners. If Potter declined and Draco accepted, then what would his fate be? Would he be paired up with someone else? Would he be declined entry to the Elite ranks? Would his answer have to be simultaneous with Potter?

Malfoy let out a small groan, feeling the first niggles of a migraine behind his eyes. There was no one way about it - he was going to have to talk to Potter again. Without killing him.

Fabulous.

* * *

"Well, what do you _want_ to do?"

"I don't know, that's the thing," replied Harry, a little more curtly than he'd intended. Hermione gave him a hard look, but the Saviour managed to occupy himself by focusing on the swing by his side.

The park was awash with noise and activity, the early May sun taking everyone by surprise. It wasn't exactly warm, but Harry had wanted to take the boys out nonetheless. James laughed heartily in the swing as Harry pushed him back and forth, while Hermione held the handle of the buggy containing a sleeping Albus.

"What's holding you back?" she asked after a couple of minutes and didn't press, giving Harry the chance to think of his reply.

"A lot is holding me back," he said, at last, admitting everything to himself. He'd been torn over the decision for the past five days, only breaking his line of thought to be with the boys. The worst part was that he'd also been given the week off as paid leave so that he could focus entirely on his future, which had only lead to him having more time to pour over it.

"I mean, the way McCready described it, Hermione, it's like her words were drilled into my head and I can feel the weight of the decision physically on my shoulders."

Hermione frowned like she always did when he mentioned McCready. From what he could read in her expression, something about the Elite Leader didn't sit well with his friend. He'd told Ron and Hermione about the meeting as soon as he'd gotten back, and they'd been a godsend in keeping him grounded over the past few days. But the deadline was getting closer, and Harry was no nearer an answer.

"It's a big choice, Harry," she said softly, smiling down at James as the boy called her to watch.

"It is. I mean, I've always been in danger since the minute I was born and having these few years out of it, not having to watch my back all the time has been brilliant. I feel like if I say yes, I'll be walking into another shitstorm and will constantly be a target."

Hermione nodded gently, understanding what he meant. They carried on playing with James until the boy got bored and raced off to the climbing frames.

Together they moved over to a bench, Harry unfurling a thin blanket from under the buggy and hooking it over the front to shield Albus from the sun.

"You're going to have to start seriously considering your options though, Harry. You've got till when, Saturday?"

Harry nodded as his eyes followed the toddler, the boy fearless as he joined a group of bigger children and demanding they let him play.

He smiled as he watched, loving the way James's hair flashed in the sun, glimmering a dark copper.

"How could I put the boys in danger like that? Everyone knows they're mine, everyone knows I'll die for them. They could be targets, too."

He felt a warm hand touch his forearm and Harry gave his best friend a small smile. She was watching him steadily, the muggle coat wrapped firmly around her body. Harry liked bringing the boys to the muggle park - he preferred the stationary playground rather than the precarious contraptions in the magical park by Diagon Alley.

Not just that, but James could be himself there and no one would ask him about his dad. Yet another thing he felt guilty about.

"Harry…"

Hermione's tone had him looking at her, seeing she was struggling to form words for what she wanted to say. It was the same look she gave him when he'd told her he was going to propose to Ginny.

"Just tell me, Hermione. I really need some help with this, and truth helps."

The witch sighed heavily, glancing up at James before looking Harry dead in the eyes.

"Harry, you've always been a target. Everyone who is anyone wants to know you. You've been a symbol of hope for so long, and then you became a saviour all before you left school. But that doesn't just end. There will always be people who want to hurt you, just because of who you are and what you did. You're the face they can blame for everything. Don't ask me why people think like that, but the wizarding world has always been anything but stable. All I'm saying is that you'll always be a target. For public affairs, for news, for revenge, for blame. You never asked for it, but it's a burden we both know you have to bare."

Harry let her words hang for a moment, watching as she prepared to deliver her final point. He'd already guessed what she was going to say by the way she'd lead up to it.

"Being an Elite will put you in immediate danger, yes, and I understand what you mean about the boys. Don't forget how protected they are, though, you know each and every one us would die for them," she said fiercely, sending a rush of pride and love into his chest. Harry nodded and reached over, hooking his arm around her shoulders. She chuckled slightly, but he could tell she wasn't finished talking, although she remained silent.

"What?" he asked gently, pulling back and looking into her face. She avoided his eyes but gave out a resigned sigh.

"Harry, you've...not been the same since… you-know-who. Not changed in a bad way, I mean, you grew up like we all did, we didn't have a choice. But that fire you used to have, that drive for life, you lost that. You resigned yourself to becoming the husband, the father. You fell into the role of Auror like that was the path laid out for you and all you had to do was follow. I know the boys are your world, and you got a little of that back when they were born, but it's like… you just fell into line. You lost your fight."

Harry felt his eyes widen at her words, mostly because that was the last thing he'd expected her to say. She still wasn't looking at him, probably worried about his reaction.

"I think you were fighting Voldemort so long that it became part of your personality. You are The-Boy-Who-Lived, and you were a fighter. Now that battle is over, you've stopped fighting. Just kind of… floated by. Let's be honest, you didn't want to marry Ginny."

Harry snapped his head up and opened his mouth, a denial sat on his tongue. The look she was giving him though left no room for argument, and Harry realised that she was right. He'd already admitted as much to himself, to her. The need to defend himself was habitual now.

"You didn't want to marry her but felt like you _had_ to. The world expected you to because they wanted to see the love story. Then she fell pregnant, and I know I know," she said quickly, raising her hand to his half-open jaw. "I know you wouldn't change it for the world. I know you love them, but Harry, you didn't want them at the time. Even _I_ know Ginny tricked you into that, no matter how much you wouldn't change it. You had kids because you felt like you _had_ to. You became an Auror because it was expected. Since the battle at Hogwarts, you've just been doing what everyone else wants you to do. What do _you_ want, Harry?"

The Saviour sat there for a long moment, letting Hermione cast careful glances at James to make sure he was safe.

Was that true? Sure, he and Ginny had married far too young, became parents far too early. But was that how everyone saw him? Just a sheep?

He wouldn't deny that he felt pressured into the proposal. Part of him did want to marry Ginny because back then she was _his_ Ginny. He always wanted to join the Aurors, and everyone knew it. Part of him had wanted a year to himself when he left Hogwarts, but life went on and he was always in the limelight.

The more he thought about it, the more Hermione's words made sense. Or, at least, he could see where she was coming from.

"The point I've been trying to make," she said, her voice slightly strained, "is that you've lost the will to fight for what you want. Fighting is a part of your nature, Harry, and if the Elites give you a purpose then you have to go for it. You'll always be in danger, so will your family and everyone you know. Why not fight to _protect_ them from it instead?"

Hermione seemed like she'd gotten everything off her chest that she wanted to say, and Harry didn't have an answer for her, so they moved onto another topic. It didn't last long, the weight of their previous conversation baring heavily on them both. Hermione excused herself a short while later, kissing him on the cheek and telling him to think about what she'd said. Harry promised to, hugging her tight before watching her go.

He stayed on the bench for a while until Albus woke up crying and James came wandering over to him for a cuddle. Harry pulled his boys into his arms, holding them tight. They held him back, their love unconditional and unquestioned. Harry knew he couldn't lose his boys, and he would rather be a husk of a man than lose the two most important things he'd ever lived for.

Harry put James on his shoulders and Albus back into the buggy, walking slowly through the streets. He guided the pram with one hand and the other held James's legs.

"Daddy I'm hungry," said James as they walked from the muggle streets and into the magical ones. He felt the change in the atmosphere immediately. It was like he could taste magic in the air, a sweet tang that settled on his tongue.

"What do you want for dinner?" he asked, looking at both of them. James had his small hands wrapped around Harry's head, his little fingers holding onto his father's ears like reins. James started to shout out random foods he could see, making Albus giggle and shout along even though the baby couldn't pronounce half the words. Then they started to just shout out random things, making Harry laugh as people turned to him, clearly disturbed by the loud children. It was almost funny how quickly their faces changed when the recognised the Saviour's offspring.

"I want… brooms! With books! And hats!"

Harry smirked and stopped outside of a small bookstore. He couldn't help but notice the new release plastered all around the display, shaking his head as his own face looked back.

 _Harry Potter: The Untold Truth as told by Rita Skeeter._

"Daddy it's you," said James, enamoured by the moving picture of his father on the front of the book. Harry didn't even remember taking the picture. It was probably taken without his knowledge just like the book had been written without his permission.

The picture showed a younger Harry, from about the time he'd defeated Voldemort. He was standing in front of the press, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

The Saviour turned and walked away, pushing the pram and the book from his mind. He'd given up on trying to stop all the books and the articles and the bullshit - no one listened to him anyway. There would always be rumours flying around about him, it was a futile attempt to stop them.

Harry took his boys into a small muggle Tesco on the way back home, deciding on walking rather than apparating or flooing. Albus wasn't used to either of them yet, and the boy was more than content shouting down at his brother. As he stood in the queue, one arm hooked under a basket handle, the other holding James's hand as he stood by the side of the buggy, he felt the weariness of the day set in. The boys had been to nursery as it was Thursday, and he'd managed to finally clean up the flat. He'd even finished their room, with a little help from Hermione. Then they'd decided to take them for a walk, enjoying the surprisingly bright day.

"Daddy, what's that?"

Harry followed James's line of sight, smiling when the boy pointed at the self-service machine.

"That lets you buy the food."

"Wow… Daddy it talks! Like Nanny's mirror!"

Harry bit the inside of his lip to stop himself laughing as a woman in front of him in the queue turned her head and gave the Saviour an odd look. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, letting the muggles believed what they would. That was the good thing about having magical infants in a non-magical place - they just sounded like they had a brilliant imagination.

"Daddy use the talking machine!" cried James, tugging Harry towards the self-service, sighing heavily as he put the basket down. He hated these bloody machines, only just knowing how to use one.

James look enraptured as Harry picked up the few things in his basket, scanning them and putting them into a bag on the other side. The screen flashed, and James must have thought it magic because he laughed in amazement.

"What do you do now Daddy?" he asked, just as Harry reached for his wallet. Luckily, he had the sense to change over some galleons into muggle money and open a bank account. It helped when he needed a few things and it was easier to use an ordinary shop. Nothing quirky, nothing floating or buzzing around him. Just necessities.

"Now we pay," he said, pulling out the card and slipping it into the slot. Harry entered his PIN, paying for the food and hooking the bags onto the buggy handle.

"That's it? Daddy, there's no magic!"

Harry turned, frowning when he saw James standing by the machine. The boy waved his hands in front of it.

"James, come on, it's finished now. We've bought our food."

A few people still queuing were now watching the little boy, clearly humoured by his vivid imagination.

"But where's the magic?"

"That was the magic, the machine did it all by itself."

"No, Daddy, the _magic_. Like your wand!"

Harry felt his jaw stiffen, laughing nervously as people turned their attention to him. He moved down, reaching out for James's hand but the boy was quicker. He dived for Harry's pocket where he knew the Auror kept his wand. Harry let go of the pram, swooping down and picking the boy up with both arms, making James laugh and managing to snatch the wooden stick from his fingers without much noticing.

"We can play Wizards and Magic when we get home, but I've got to make dinner first," he said, perhaps a little bit louder than necessary, as he hooked James under one arm and pushed the pram with the other.

"Da… da da da! Dad!" shouted Albus, excited by James's happy cries.

James started shouting out spells that Harry had used, and the Saviour tried to keep himself from smirking as James reached out both hands to a random muggle and shouted _Lumos_. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he thought he might have seen her hair glowing a little, just for moment.


	3. Always in the Fire

**Author's note:** _Well, so... hello everyone. I have to say I'm so surprised at how many people liked and followed my little story! I didn't expect anyone to be interested in it at all if I'm being honest. So... thank you, everyone, I can't begin to explain how much it's surprised and humbled me. If you haven't visited my profile, then you won't know that I've been out of writing for a long, long time and am only just getting back to it. It's not coming especially easy, but it's coming, and I'm so thrilled that the story is coming out. So having people like my story well... it means the world. Please, if you enjoy this chapter let me know! This is the first long bit of prose I've done in years, so it might be a little clunky, but I hope it's still half decent. Please leave a review for me, for personal feedback, it would honestly give me such a boost and keep me writing more! But I'll shut up now - I hope you enjoy the next chapter and please check my profile for updates! ~ Dahlia_

Chapter Three - Always in the Fire

The wind whipped up and around him, surprisingly chill now the sun had decided to descend. The sky was overcast with pale yellows and oranges, the tinge of pink promising more sun for tomorrow. He hadn't put much stock on weather watching, all that premonition nonsense about 'reading the signs'. It was pure coincidence that the sky had been blood red on the eve of Voldemort's defeat.

Now, though, he couldn't help but feel as though the stormy grey clouds on the horizon, steadily moving forward to engulf the city, reflected his mood.

This was not what he wanted to be doing on a Friday evening. Normally he would be finishing off his paperwork, bidding farewell to his colleagues and heading back to his flat with his favourite takeaway - noodles. It was the only day of the week he allowed himself an unhealthy indulgence, mostly because if he didn't set boundaries for himself then he would end up living off a takeaway menu and the last thing he ever wanted to be was plump.

But no, now he was forfeiting his Pad-Thai to stand outside a tall, red-bricked building. The wards surrounding it were so strong that they practically hummed. Draco raised his slim hand to hover over the front door, letting the wards reach out and the magic lick over his palm. It had taken him a while to figure out exactly what ward Potter had used to make the building a beacon of magic and protection.

Only as he stood there, fingering the invisible force did he realise. A Blood Ward. An _old_ Blood Ward. Draco only recognised it because he'd had a similar kind enchanted in the Malfoy Manor. It was what gave buildings the sense of life, like the walls could really hear you. Part of him wondered whether Hogwarts had similar magics, considering the building used to sigh and move to the whim of those who respected it.

Then he shuddered, because the magic of that building was entirely out of his intelligence range - and it took someone with great pride to admit their faults. Still, even if he did have the skill or ancient knowledge to understand Hogwarts castle, part of him didn't think he'd even want to.

Draco felt a crackle against his palm and he knew the wards were waiting to see what he wanted. Was Potter linked to the ward like Lucius had been linked to the Manor?

Could the Saviour feel something prodding at his conscious, ever so slightly? Draco cocked an eyebrow, stepping closer so that he hovered just on the edge of the wards reach.

He called a little of his own magic to his fingers, watching the sparks as it met the invisible barrier. Draco smirked, feeling the magic quivering along the bricks, sending a tremor no doubt right to the heart of the holder.

He waited a few heartbeats, but nothing happened. Draco let out a long breath, suddenly irritated. The Auror called more magic to his palm, this time roughly shoving it against the wards. He felt the constricting magic flutter at the sudden assault, before snapping taut against his hand. This time he could feel it stirring, before he stood back and glanced at the call box.

There was a slight knocking sound followed by a distorted voice.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

Now _there_ was one voice full of disdain that Draco would certainly never forget. He was quite impressed that Potter knew it was him from his magical signature alone.

"Potter, we need to talk," he said airily, like he didn't give a care either way. Of course he did, though, because he'd come close to pulling out his hair over the Elites.

"Right now? James, go back to the table!" Potter sighed heavily, his voice coming back into focus. "I'm quite busy - _James. Sirius. Potter._ Back to the table! - at the moment."

Draco cocked his head as he heard the cacophony of noise no doubt emitting from the little clones that Potter had created.

"It's important, Potter. You know, 'rest of our lives' kind of important."

The line went quiet for a moment, nothing but the distant wails of a child somewhere in the apartment.

"Oh fine."

The line went dead and Draco felt a flush of indignation colour his cheeks, right before there was a harsh buzz and the front door popped open.

The blond yanked at the door and stepped inside, noticing the bobbing lights flickering a little. He had no ill intentions, his brain screamed, and the lights all but stopped.

No, no ill intentions at all. Well he hadn't when he first arrived, but now he just felt ridiculous for coming in the first place. It didn't help that he kind of needed Potter's opinion on this. Not to mention the fact they were supposedly partners, but he needed to know to which way the Gryffindor was inclining. If he was going to say no, Draco was going to attempt to persuade him otherwise. Draco still had no idea what would happen if he said yes and Potter said no. Therefore, if they were both on the same wavelength it would be an easier decision.

That's what he told himself, anyway, stopping in front the door labeled _11._

As he raised a hand to knock, Draco heard a loud giggle, turning his head to see that the door was already open. Clearly Potter thought Draco was no threat, which he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

As he stepped into the apartment, Draco realised at once that it had been cleaned since the last time he was here. It didn't look so bare, either. Now there was more furniture around the open living room, pictures on the wall. Draco could see a toy box in the far corner, a rug. It had been tastefully decorated, and he couldn't help but feel surprised. When he turned towards the kitchen, hearing little voices nattering away, Draco was more than a little shocked to see the dimensions of the kitchen had been changed entirely.

Whereas it had been open and spacious before with a breakfast island, the counters spread out and appliances well fitted to the size - now it had a whole new feel to it. The kitchen seemed to have been pushed back to the far wall, all warm oak wood rather than cold sleek metal. The breakfast island was gone, replaced with a lovely wooden dining table, nestled just at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Hello!"

Draco focused back on the dining table, only now just noticing it's occupants. The baby sat at the head of the table in some kind of brightly colour high chair, Potter just next to him. The other one, James was it? The toddler was sat opposite Potter, clearly raised by something with a spoon in his hand and dinner around his face.

"Hello," said Draco smoothly, watching as Potter turned his head a little to acknowledge him. The Saviour was facing the baby, a bowl in his hand and the other offering up the little thing a spoonful of… what the hell were they eating?

Draco scowled, leaning over the table slightly to examine whatever was in the ceramic bowl in the middle. He frowned, recognising potato with something like melted cheese on top. Then he looked over at the toddler's bowl and scowled again.

"You having dinner?" asked the boy, scooping up a little from his own bowl and munching happily. It looked like… brown slop with potato. And cheese.

"Um… no," he said distastefully, gaining another look from Potter. The baby babbled happily, banging on the tray and letting brown ooze from it's mouth.

"It's nice, you want some?"

Draco turned to the boy again to see him offering up a spoonful of his own food. He barely bit back a sarcastic comment, mentally telling himself that the poor child had no idea what gruel was and that Draco was accustomed to finer food than… that.

"You look like you've never seen Cottage Pie before in your life," said Potter casually, a hint of humour in his voice as he scooped up the last little bit and popped it into the baby's open mouth.

"No," he replied carefully, aware that he was here to have a polite conversation and all sarcastic comments would have to be withheld for a later date.

"Sit down, will you? You're hovering."

Draco sent a scowl to the back of Potter's head as the man put down the bowl and turned to his own untouched dinner.

He almost decided to stand, just because it seemed to annoy the Saviour, but he felt awkward just waiting there when Potter was clearly more interested in his own dinner. With a resigned sigh, Draco pulled out a chair and sat at the head of the table, directly opposite to the baby who had only just noticed him.

"What's your name?" asked James innocently, trying to pick up a carrot with his spoon.

"Draco."

Recognition had the boy's eyes going wide, grinning up from a mouthful.

"Raco?"

"Draco," he corrected, folding his robes over his lap and trying not to fidget. Potter had just taken a mouthful when the baby cried, reaching out for Potter's plate. The Saviour sighed, wiping his mouth on a napkin (who knew the Golden Prat had some table etiquette?) and stood.

"Do you want a drink or something?" he asked absently as he moved further into the kitchen, opening a tall cupboard of some kind and pulling out a little square pot.

"No, thank you."

Potter shrugged, grabbing something from a drawer and coming back over to the table. Draco wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel, sitting in on a cozy Potterling dinner - but uncomfortable was high on that list.

"Daddy I want pudding," cried James, clearly put out as Potter put the square tub and a spoon down in front of the baby.

"Eat your dinner first, James," replied the Saviour wearily, turning back to his own meal, which looked stone cold.

"But Alby got one!"

"Albus has finished."

"That's not fair! I'm not eating no more," huffed the toddler, unceremoniously dumping his spoon on the plate and shoving it away. Draco could see from the tense set of Potter's shoulders that he was trying not to be baited, and as green eyes were cast towards him, Draco realised Potter was trying to control his temper.

"James," he warned, but the boy was having none of it.

"I want pudding, this is 'scusting."

Draco sympathised with the child, but didn't say anything, instead watching Potter's shoulders slump in defeat. He noticed slight bags under the man's eyes and wondered if he'd been finding sleep difficult as of late. Draco had, but he also didn't have two brats taking up his every moment either.

"Isn't that rude, James?" said Draco after a moment, surprising himself and all the occupants of the table. Potter gave him a stunned look and James was watching him with calculating eyes.

"Rude?"

"Yes, rude. You must eat your meal before you can have your dessert, or that would take away the pleasure of the treat, wouldn't it?"

James let out another huff, clearly annoyed that the battle wasn't turning in his favour.

" _You_ can't have pudding," sulked James finally, picking up his spoon and taking another mouthful of his dinner. "You haven't ate dinner."

Draco gave the little thing a small smile, shaking his head. It was only then that he noticed Potter's green eyes watching him steadily. Draco cocked an eyebrow questioningly, but Potter only frowned and turned back to his own meal.

The blond sat there for a moment, noticing that Potter was giving him a side-glance every now and then. James seemed to forget about the unlawful way in which he was treated and began telling Draco about what he had done at school.

He listened as best he could through the nonsense that the child came up with, deciding that perhaps the boy hadn't inherited his father's complete lack of intelligence as he started to sing out his ABC's.

A soft laugh from his right caught his attention, looking over at Potter who was watching the baby. The boy was covered entirely in some kind of creamy pink stuff, smeared over every available surface but had tuckered himself out. The baby's head was slowly moving downward, his eyes drifting closed. Draco watched as Albus jerked himself awake before slowly letting his head fall down again.

When his forehead touched the plastic tray, Potter let out another small laugh. He turned to James and shushed him, making the boy smile and put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh," he whispered. "Raco shhhh."

Draco nodded, not bothering to correct the child. Potter got to his feet and slowly picked up the boy, not even hesitating as some of the pink stuff was smeared all over his arm. He cradled the child, who barely even stirred as he carried him to the next room.

The blond took the moment to fully examine his surroundings. He'd definitely expected more screaming and snappy comments. Instead he just felt… out of place.

"Raco, can I have pudding now?"

Draco was startled that the child would ask him, but he saw the boy's plate was now empty.

"I am sure your father will give you your dessert shortly."

Draco was actually fairly impressed with the impatient pout that donned the boy's features at that statement. Clearly, as first born, he was used to getting his way. How amusing that a child born by parents with such an impoverished background would spoil their own child. Draco had been spoiled, but such was his privilege as a higher ranking member of society and wealth.

James crossed his arms and sat back, looking from the door that Potter went through, back to Draco, and then to the tall cupboard.

He waited all of thirty seconds.

"Daddy!"

There was no response, and Draco could see just how impatient the boy was getting, especially by the bright red splotches making their way up his cheeks. A Weasley trait, no doubt.

He shuddered at that thought as Potter made some kind of shushing noise from the other room. Heaving a pained sigh, Draco got to his feet. James watched him poutily at first before he realised where Draco was going, his face transforming into that of utter joy.

It was a bizarre look, and the resemblance to Potter was uncanny, but Draco continued towards the tall cupboard with little to no knowledge of what he was searching for. Casting the cupboard a withering look, the blond took hold of the handle and opened it. He wasn't, however, prepared for the the blinding light that he was met with.

* * *

Harry had to bite his lower lip to stop the snigger as he watched Malfoy open the fridge before promptly hissing and shielding himself from the light inside. He couldn't think of anything else more amusing than the proud and priggish Malfoy fumbling with the most basic muggle technology. Manipulated to work around magic, of course, but the basic structure was the same.

He hovered in the curve of the hall, just out of sight of the dining room but able to study its inhabitants without notice. He could see James bouncing up and down in his chair, shouting at Malfoy as he approached the fridge again, studying it as if it were a basilisk about to spit poison. Harry couldn't quite place what had changed around his rival, but it was niggling at the back of his mind.

True, he did not want to be partnered with Malfoy for the rest of his life, and from the daunting words by McCready still weighing heavily on his shoulders, whatever they would go through to become Elites would be tough. He didn't have any confidence that he could bare that burden with Malfoy on his heels, criticizing his every mistake.

And yet, as Malfoy finally dained to listen to James's instructions and took a yogurt out of the fridge, Harry couldn't help but notice the other man's features.

They still held the same arrogant disdain of anything he decided was unworthy, and yet it didn't seem quite as harsh. His features were still striking, his cheekbones so sharp he was sure they could cut stone. His eyes were still bright, but they held an added depth that Harry had never seen before. It was almost as if Malfoy had gained some kind of insight, that he didn't look at world through a greedy and manipulative scope, but could now see a bigger picture.

 _Wishful thinking, Harry._

He gave out an agreeing snort, which of course revealed his position in the shadows. Malfoy turned his head in a severe jerk, instinctual as his narrowed expression took an extra moment to catch up. It would stand to assume that Malfoy had developed keener senses and quicker reactions after joining the Aurors.

"Daddy! I got pudding," beamed his son, holding up the half-eaten pot with so much pride it was as if he'd gotten the dessert himself.

Malfoy had arranged himself at the head of the table again, one leg resting over the other and hands folded on the table. His spine was so straight that Harry thought it might snap if he moved too quickly, but the haughty expression never faltered on the man's face.

As Harry frowned, Malfoy raised a perfectly arched silver eyebrow and gave him an unimpressed look.

"Whatever you've come to annoy me for will have to wait until I've finished my tea," said the Saviour dismissively as he took his seat. A flick of his wand and a warming charm had his food steaming again. He'd only just taken a mouthful when Malfoy's clipped voice cut through the room.

"We need to discuss this."

Something in Malfoy's tone must have startled James, because the boy suddenly sat rigid and set wide brown eyes on Harry. The Saviour gave his son a soft, comforting smile which seemed to settle him enough to finish his yogurt.

"Well you can wait ten minutes," said Harry, just as snappish, finishing his sentence with a flourishing mouthful of food.

He pointedly ignored the glare trying to melt a hole in his cheek, acting as if he cottage pie was the only thing that could hold his attention at that moment. James declared himself finished and pushed himself out of his chair, rushing into the living room and picking up the book that held his attention earlier. If Harry was in more comfortable company, he would have made a joke about James only being able to go at two speeds; stop and run. He didn't think that Malfoy would appreciate that little tidbit, for some reason.

Although he had to admit that the tension doubled when it was just the two of them; Harry trying to swallow mashed potato that clung to his tonsils and Malfoy still boring his eyes into Harry's head.

He managed to stomach two more mouthfuls before he sighed heavily and pushed his plate away.

"Well since you've ruined my appetite, we might as well bloody talk," he grumbled, wiping his mouth on his napkin and turning his own glare on his unwelcome guest. Malfoy didn't even blink, nor did he soften his features at all.

"What have you decided."

Harry felt his eyebrows lift in surprise. Malfoy didn't so much question as accuse him, his voice leaving no room for anything but the absolute truth. He was so struck by Malfoy's bluntness that it took him a moment to gather his thoughts. He ran his tongue over his teeth before shrugging.

"I haven't decided."

"What?" hissed Malfoy, his glare darkening. Harry was used to the intimidation tactics thrown about by the brainy branch of Aurors, so he met Malfoy's eyes unphased.

"I. Haven't. Decided."

A flush of colour rose in Malfoy's cheeks, obviously not appreciating Harry's slow pronunciation of every word as if the other were stupid.

"We have to submit our applications tomorrow, Potter. _Tomorrow._ "

"Yes, thank you for the update Malfoy, I'm quite aware when the deadline is."

If Malfoys were capable of looking flustered, in their own stoic way, Harry would have sworn that was what Malfoy was at that moment. It was only a brief stutter, before his cool composure snapped back into place and he set Harry with a languid, bored expression.

"Sarcasm isn't your strong suit Potter." He gave a small sigh, a little rise and fall of his chest, before looking up at Harry with a new kind of determination.

"I didn't come here to pacify your worries or discuss the pros and cons of the Elites. I came here for an answer. You must...realise," started Malfoy slowly, a small shift in his chair the only indication he was placing his words carefully. "That this decision doesn't just affect you. If we have been partnered, and one of us refuse, it stands to reason that the other won't get a place. So, essentially, we hold the careers of each other in our hands."

Harry narrowed his eyes, not sure if he like the reasonable tone of Malfoy's voice, or the way he seemingly switched tactics towards reason rather than animosity.

"I hope you've not come here to try and guilt me into accepting," said Harry, "because despite you being someone I don't particularly like, I've long since stopped letting myself get guilted into anything."

Malfoy's jaw tightened as if he were reining in his temper and Harry followed the small bob of his throat before he met Harry's eyes again.

"I'm not using anything other than reason, Potter. Declining the Elites would be ludicrous, even with your history."

Harry jerked his head down as if he'd took a blow to the face, holding his position before letting out a short, dangerous laugh.

"Insulting me probably isn't the best thing for you to do right now considering you want me to do something that'll benefit _you_."

"Then perhaps it might knock some sense into you!" Malfoy snapped his mouth shut, and sat back, no doubt reeling from his sudden break in composure. Harry noticed the way his knuckles were turning white as his fingers crushed each other, and the small vein visible on his pale neck was pulsing hard.

Harry blinked a few times as well, trying to push through his disdain. The next time Harry spoke, his voice was heavy and tired.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Malfoy. I really don't know what I want to do. Unlike you, I actually have other responsibilities that I need to put first."

His eyes instinctively looked across the room, at the small figure of his son lying on the sofa with his arms draped over the edge. He was idly brushing Bunny who gave a soft, motherly hoot.

"Please. The only thing stopping you is your own stupidity and your personal diversion to power."

Harry felt his jaw set hard and he turned his deep green eyes sharply on to blonde. The man didn't move, but Harry felt a small rush of power in the air as though Malfoy was preparing for an attack.

He might have drawn his wand, once upon a time, but he was better than that now. Sure, the prat had pissed him off, but he was better at reigning in his temper than he used to be. Plus, his boys were here and the last thing he wanted them to see was their father throwing hexes. Harry put his napkin on the table and slowly walked out of the kitchen and towards the front room. He grabbed the door and pulled it open, standing to the side and watching Malfoy expectantly.

"Goodbye, Malfoy."

Malfoy's cheeks were flushed and his silver eyes were flashing under pale lashes, but he didn't argue back. Harry could see the hard set of his jaw and the stiff way that he got to his feet. He obviously wanted to argue with him, but Harry was being the bigger person. He understood Malfoy's reasons for coming here, and he understood his point; but pissing him off wasn't going to do anything more than just that.

He watched Malfoy with narrowed eyes as the man walked briskly from the table and towards the front door. He stopped just in front of Harry, and the two of them stared each other down for a few tense heartbeats.

Neither one was going to give, and Malfoy seemed to realise it. He clucked his tongue and turned, stepping through the threshold.

"Bye Raco," called James sleepily, and Harry turned to the boy. He was semi-conscious on the sofa, looking over at the door with a slightly dazed expression from the exertion of keeping himself awake.

Harry opened his mouth to explain that Draco had had to go, considering the man had already walked-

"Goodbye, James."

Harry jerked and turned, seeing Malfoy hanging around the doorframe enough to give James and small nod. Harry got another quick glare before the man practically pirouetted off and down the hallway. Harry frowned, closing the door slowly until it gave out a gentle click.

He stood there for a few long moments, feeling the shift of Malfoy moving through the wards. He could feel the power pulsing from the other wizard, no doubt simmering in response to his anger, but nothing malicious was coming from him. As soon as Malfoy stepped through the front door, Harry let his shoulders slump, raising a hand to slowly rub over his mouth and jaw. Everything was weighing him down and he just didn't know what to do any more.

Harry slowly started forward and over to the couch, smiling faintly as he saw James's dark lashes were completely closed and his breathing had evened out into a soft rhythm. He knew the boy had only just gone to sleep and moving him now would just wake him up. So he kept himself busy, pottering about the kitchen, clearing some plates. He made himself a cup of tea, briefly considering adding a splash of something sharp - but he shook his head. As he lifted James and carried the boy carefully to his bedroom, his mind drifted again towards his choice.

Could he really do it? Take the risk that came with the Elites?

His arms subconsciously tightened around the small little body in his arms, and he looked down over James's soft features. Merlin, he still remembered the first time he held James. He'd been nothing but a tiny, squishy bundle with a set of iron lungs. But he was so beautiful, so perfect, with ten tiny fingers and ten little toes. Harry hadn't known love like it, hadn't know he could adore something so fiercely in one swift moment.

The Saviour wandered slowly to the small bed, wiping the remnants of yogurt from James's mouth before he set him gently onto the mattress. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and tucked it in over his sides. James didn't even move, his mouth falling open as he slipped into a deeper sleep. Harry smiled faintly, placing a lingering kiss on the boy's forehead, before he tip-toed out of the room and left a small ball of light hovering by the ceiling.

In the silence of the house, Harry glanced around the empty halls. Toys were scattered here and there, open books strewn about the living room. Albus's pram was sitting by the front door, his dummy on the couch. Having his boys here was like inviting a whirlwind into his home, and he wouldn't have it any other way. They were a perfect chaos, so carefree and full of life.

How could he risk that?

Harry padded to the kitchen and opened a drawer, pulling out a piece of parchment.

 _Application for the transferral into the Elite Auror Department._

Biting the inside of his lip, he saw his godawful scrawl over the page, filling in details. There was a box that highlighted all of his merits and strengths, along with another section for his weaknesses. He'd already been shortlisted, but this piece of parchment held the fate of his future. Who knew what would happen should he sign the last empty box at the bottom.

Harry let his eyes flutter closed, turning the parchment and putting it face-down on the counter, his palm resting heavily on the top of it.

He couldn't do it.

* * *

The Ministry had always had a sense of darkness about it, even with the thousands of lights that shone in the ceiling. There was just something so cold about the harsh marble and the constant click of busy feet on the floor. So many people rushing to get to where they needed to go. So much paperwork to hand in, so much overtime by tired and worn looking people. They all had that sense of urgency in their bodies and yet their faces always held that hint of desperation. The agonising need for a break, for a few days away from the dingy halls and out in the sunlight.

Harry didn't feel the need to rush, even though the parchment was sitting heavy in his pocket.

He didn't feel the need to run head first into the rejection of his career. He would be rushing on Monday, when he came back to his usual desk, his usual job, his usual life. But not today.

Even Saturday's were busy - probably even more so. People wanted to get their work done and be gone to spend what precious little time they had with their families before the week started again and they were forced back to their usual desks at their usual jobs.

Harry stepped into the crowded lift, feeling oddly heavy even as it lurched and sent the packed compartment flying through invisible walls at speeds he couldn't comprehend. He had his footing now, and when it came to a stammering halt at the Auror Department, Harry stepped onto stable ground without so much as a wobble.

His heels clicked along the floor, seemingly drawing the eyes of the twenty or so occupants in the main hall, most of them looking up to catch his eye. There was a monstrous amount of paperwork in their department, even with twenty plus people to file it. He just nodded his head politely at those who caught his eye, but they must have sensed his somber aura as no one approached him.

He walked towards the back offices where each Auror shared a room with their partner. Some were empty, some closed, some open with a few recognisable faces milling about, telling inappropriate jokes and snickering in return. He glanced over longingly, but made himself look forward. It was almost as though he was walking through the forest again, ready to be met with certain death. And yet, he didn't have that sound resignation that he had last time. This time it just felt… heavy.

As Harry walked past the office that he shared with Ron, he saw the seat was empty. He was glad of it. Ron's pitying face would have made this a whole lot worse. He'd only just managed to bite it down last night when he'd told the Weasley-Granger household of his decision. He'd expected Hermione to scold him in all honesty, to tell him not to be stupid, but instead she'd just looked sad. Deflated.

He could understand that.

Harry kept walking until he got to the end office. Kingsley's official office was on the top floor, but the Saviour knew the man liked to escape the duties of Minister more often than not, and he would hide out in the empty office that they _definitely_ didn't leave empty for him.

Harry swallowed hard before he let out a hard breath, setting his face in a grim determination, before he knocked hard.

"Come in."

The voice, even when used softly, was still a great booming sound, and Harry smiled faintly. He opened the door and stepped into the office, seeing the familiar dark face of his friend as he scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment in front of him. The man did a double glance at him, surprise washing over his features.

"Hello, Harry," he said fondly, his smile effortless and open. Harry tried to smile back but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hello, sir."

"Come to give me your application I hope?" he smiled, opening a palm merrily. Harry, on the other hand, didn't move. His hesitation caused the Minister to frown, and Harry gave the man an empty, apologetic smile in return.

"No, sir."

"Oh."

Harry nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the incomplete application.

"I can't accept it, sir. I'm sorry."

Harry placed the folded parchment on the edge of the desk - coincidentally right next to a small pile of completed Elite applications.

Kingsley slowly put down his quill and leaned forward on his elbows, folding his hands in front of him. He set Harry with a very levelled look, but the Saviour had been expecting it. What he didn't expect was the way Kingsley's features changed - softened, even.

"I understand, Harry."

Now it was Harry's turn to look surprised. He cocked his head. "Were you expecting me to say no?"

Kingsley opened his palms in a submissive gesture.

"Honestly? Yes, I was. I knew you wouldn't be able to put the safety of your family at risk for a promotion."

Harry blinked a few times before he slowly crossed his arms and shrugging his shoulders.

"So why offer it to me?"

"Well I had to give you the choice, Harry, even if I knew you'd do the honourable thing."

"Huh."

Kingsley gave Harry a small, if a little sad, smile before he gestured at the empty chair opposite him. Harry stood for a few more moments, studying the other man with sharp eyes. He was looking for some indication that this was a manipulation tactic, but all he could see was honest truth. Harry had gotten pretty good at reading people, but he didn't quite trust himself at that moment.

"Sit down, Harry. This isn't a play on you, I promise."

Harry gave a small pout that he was so easily read in return, before he pulled out the chair and sat himself down heavily. Kinsgley returned to his previous position of leaning on the desk by the elbows. The Saviour wasn't quite sure what to do as he sat there, feeling out of place while Kingsley watched him with an almost fatherly-like expression.

"Did I ever tell you that I was offered a spot in the Elites?"

Harry's eyebrows rose. "No, you didn't."

Kingsley smiled a little wider before he nodded, leaning back on his chair.

"Yeah, when I was young like you. I was at the top of my game, and Merlin did I know it. I thought I was on top of the world, and when they offered me a place in the Elite's, I jumped at the chance."

"But you didn't take it, sir?"

This time, Kingsley looked down, shaking his head slowly.

"No. When I told my wife, I could see the fear in her eyes. Jas was always so supportive of me, but she was always so worried that I'd get hurt. My little Stephen was only a year old, and I remember sitting there, watching him sleep in his mother's arms and I knew… I couldn't hurt them for my own selfish wants. I chose to be a husband, a father - it was my responsibility to keep them safe."

Kingsley's eyes got a glassy, faraway look to them and Harry politely looked away. Stephen Shacklebolt had died when Voldemort had attacked the Ministry towards the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts. It had all been a ploy to trap Harry, but there had still been casualties. Sirius. Stephen.

A macabre mood fell over the two of them, and Harry tried not to let himself get swallowed in the memories of that night.

Kingsley took a deep breath and looked up, pain etched into his hard features even as he tried to remain strong. It was a hard thing to see, such obvious pain rising above an incredible strength.

"Our choices define who we are, Harry. I'd like to think that I made the right choice, not joining the Elites… but sometimes I doubt. If I had the skills that they offered, I could have passed some on to my son. Perhaps he could have defended himself better. Perhaps it's only wishful thinking. I don't regret declining the offer, but sometimes… I doubt myself."

Harry crossed his hands on his lap, looking down at the white of his knuckles.

"Harry," said the Minister softly, drawing his attention again. "I'm not saying you're making a mistake. I'm saying that we have no control over our fate, not like we think. We can do our best, do what we _think_ is best, but in the end… life will play out as it will. 'Always in the firing line'," he said, quoting the unofficial mantra of the Auror department.

Harry bit the inside of his lip, offering the man what he hoped was a comforting smile.

"'Always in the fire'."

Kingsley nodded, sitting back as he looked at the folded piece of parchment sitting on the edge of his desk. Harry followed his eyes, his tongue heavy in his mouth even as his heart hammered against his chest.

Slowly, shakily, the Saviour reached forward.


End file.
